between the shadow and the soul
by thewinterose
Summary: When Damon Salvatore returns to Mystic Falls, his motive is not to bring his brother eternal misery, but to end his own, and he can only do that by setting her free.
1. Chapter 1

_"Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I can not live without my life! I can not live without my soul!"_ _― Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights_

* * *

 ** _2009_**

Down the winding roads and the rolling hills of Virginia, there lied a small, insignificant little town, almost quaint in its nondescript simplicity. It was a tiny, two-diner, backwater town that's nearest McDonalds was nearly twenty miles over to the next city. It was unassuming and safe, the kind of place big-city parents out scavenging for the suburbs found their haven in.

He hated it. He always hated it.

Unfortunately for him though, extenuating circumstances demanded that he was there in a timely manner before the comet passed over. It was because of that stupid ice-rock that he was even there anyway, slave to it the same way he was slave to the sun.

The man glanced down at his ringed middle-finger, the middle-finger that was currently tapping on his steering wheel as some '80s pop ballad droned on in the background. He smirked. Well, he was as near as a slave to the sun as he could be.

Soon enough, the trees in his peripheral started clearing up as he drove past old shops and whole-in-the-wall restaurants, all of them with that same family-oriented, small-town feel that he simply _loved._ The man sighed deeply as irritation began to build in his chest. It truly was no wonder that his brother loved to return here every thirty years or so. It must have made him feel in touch with all the old roots and generations-old traditions, with the town celebrations and the Christmas carnivals. It was enough to make someone feel human, and not apart from it, as his brother undoubtedly did. As he did.

The man heaved a sigh and turned his eyes back to the road, annoyed with his brother's soft-hearted predictability. In the end, however, he wasn't here to confront his brother's pathetic need to hold onto his humanity, and surprisingly, he wasn't here to go on some hedonistic blood-high and/or orgy party in order to entertain himself for years on end either.

No, he had no need of that anymore, or at the very least, he wouldn't until she decided that she wanted to walk the path of life that he did. The man huffed a sardonic laugh. He could almost imagine it. They would run off into the sunset, hand-in-hand, tearing throats and drinking blood and abandoning their humanity the way all vampires eventually did once humanity became a distant-enough concept.

Soon enough, the winding road gave way to an impressive, circular drive-way that lied before a large, even more impressive, mansion. The sign located at its side designated it as the _Salvatore Boarding House_. The man smirked as he caught sight of the massive structure, tilting his head at the sheer opulence of it. It was always too kitschy for his tastes, but he had to admit that he had a particular fondness for the bathtub located in the master suite. He could only hope that his brother stayed away from it lest he find himself without hands to wash himself with.

Once he reached the driveway of the house, he made a sharp turn to the left, towards the heavily wooded area, and parked his car at a safe distance. It wasn't imperative for his brother to know that he was here just yet. That knowledge would only come when _he_ decided it was necessary, and not because his car gave him away.

The man opened his car door and smoothly jumped out, brushing down the sleeves of his leather jacket as he swaggered away from his vehicle.

Up ahead, he could see the boarding house, and located a little ways behind it, was the small building that he truly came to see.

Unable to handle the anticipation, the man ran towards the small building in a flash, arriving there within mere seconds. He approached the gates and briefly placed his hand at the stone of the wall, rubbing his fingers against the rough limestone. For a moment, he almost imagined that he could feel the age of the structure pulse within his being, reminding him, as nearly all things did now, how old he truly was. He took a breath and slid his hand away, striding into the crypt.

The air inside was musty and dank, despite a lack of water inside, and when he looked around he could see the flowers he left at his mother's name just last year. Aside from that, there was nothing, and he almost wanted to scream at the sacrilege of it. It gave him nearly enough incentive to storm into the house and snap his brother's neck, but he had been playing smart for too long just to ruin his plans by acting impulsively.

He shook his head, physically shoving away his train of thought, and approached the grave that he was truly here to see. He stepped towards it slowly, reverently, the way a priest of old would approach an icon of their goddess, and raised his hand towards the name embedded on the wall. He ignored the way his fingers almost trembled as he touched the cold granite, the only grave built with that stone, and traced the letters that formed her name. He had always loved her name, even when he was a child of nearly eight years old and she was nothing but a bump on his mother's belly.

His thumb finished tracing the curve of the " _A"_ in her name before he pressed his palm against it, wishing that the chill beneath his hand came from the satin of her skin and not from the lifeless stone.

Damon Salvatore stepped away from the grave, reluctantly pulling his hand with him. He crossed his arms to keep himself from touching it again, to keep his mind focused, and to keep reminding himself that in a few short weeks, it would not be the cold granite that he felt beneath his palms, but the warmth of her skin.

He appraised her grave for seconds more and then turned around, stepping away from his veritable altar. Damon strode out of the Salvatore Crypt and headed towards the direction of the boarding house, deciding that now, it was best for his brother to know that he was back in town.

Behind him, the crypt stood exactly as it did before he walked in. The only difference was the minute change of temperature that permeated through the chilled granite, the name _Elena Salvatore_ only slightly warmer than it was before.

* * *

 **So I've been in love with the Vampire Diaries for years but I've never written fic for it before. I recently rewatched the show and I fell in love with delena all over again. Now, this story does have some taboo subject matter which I referenced very briefly in the story. I understand completely if it makes anyone uncomfortable and I do not resent anyone not clicking on this story because of that. What I do ask, however, is that any criticism towards this story be constructive criticism, as I have always appreciated that. I hope you all enjoy this story and leave reviews!**


	2. Chapter 2

_"There is a madness in loving you, a lack of reason that makes it feel so flawless." — Leo Christopher_

* * *

 _ **1847**_

" _Oh!"_

 _Damon looked up to the origin of the sound, all the while passing his wooden horse between himself and his brother._

 _Their mother sat in front of them in her rocking chair, her blue eyes wide with shock, her pale hands stretched over her expanding tummy. She looked to be surprised and happy, but Damon didn't know why._

 _Without wavering his gaze, Damon asked, "what is it, Mother?" Stefan lifted his eyes to meet their mother's wide-eyed stare as well, his small and chubby hands swiping the toy away from Damon's distracted fingers._

 _Lily glanced up from her stomach to wave the boys over, a breathtaking smile enveloping her features, her bright cerulean eyes, so like her eldest son's, shining with an unwavering joy. Damon felt his breath catch in his tiny chest for a moment, his own happiness warming his heart. It had been a while since he had seen his mother so genuinely joyful._

" _Come here, boys! The baby kicked!" Lily practically cried, frantically moving her hands over her baby bump. Damon and Stefan both stood and walked over to their mother. Well, Damon walked. Stefan waddled over on his chubby toddler legs, a thing Damon hadn't done since he was a baby. He was a big boy now because he was turning eight soon and because his mother and Mariah said so._

" _What is it, Mama?" Stefan asked, sinking his tiny fingers into his mother's skirts. Lily turned her beautiful grin to her youngest son and took his hand, pressing his little palm onto her stomach._

 _Damon watched from the other side of the rocking chair, his head tilted over in childish confusion. He shot a skeptical look at his mother. "Is something supposed to happen to Stefan now?"_

 _Lily tilted her back head and laughed, her raven hair spilling over her shoulders. She reached over and took Damon's hand, leaving it on the other side of her belly. "The baby is saying hi, boys. It just kicked mommy."_

 _Damon's features twisted into a scowl and he snatched his hand away in a flash, crossing his arms. "I do not wanna say hi to the baby if he kicks you! That is mean!" Damon cried as indignation crashed over him, flooding his chest with fire. He was never so mean to his mother and he knew that because his mother always called him her "perfect boy."_

 _Lily smiled in that strange, knowing way that adults always did whenever they thought they knew something that a child didn't. Seeing it always annoyed him a little bit, but with his mother looking so happy, it didn't carry the same sting it usually did. She untangled his arms and brought his right hand back to her belly. "The kick does not hurt me, my sweet boy, but I am glad that you feel so protective over your mother," Lily said softly with a smile. "The baby is just saying hi." She lowered her voice into a loud whisper so that both boys could hear her. "And do not tell your father, but I have a very strong feeling that it will be a girl."_

" _A girl?" Stefan garbled, pulling a face. "Why a girl, Mama? Girls are boring!"_

 _Lily chuckled again, running her elegant fingers through Stefan's feather soft hair. "But would it not be nice to have a little sister to look after? I know that I would like it."_

 _Damon silently agreed with his brother. In his limited experience, girls were boring and fussy creatures, who cared more about dolls than playing soldiers. If this baby was a girl then he hoped that she would like playing soldiers with him and Stefan._

 _Damon shrugged his shoulders, but kept quiet, before another ruffle of movement fluttered inside his mother's tummy. His blue eyes grew wide with wonderment, and the trio stood very still, waiting for the movement to happen again._

 _Suddenly, a sharp thud occurred beneath Damon's palm and he yanked his hand away, gasping out loud. He kept his eyes trained on his mother's stomach as he rubbed his hand._

 _Lily's face broke out into a grin as Damon came running back, now eagerly sticking both hands onto her stomach. Stefan followed his lead, and within moments, both boys were tripping over themselves to catch a hint of movement within her._

 _Damon looked up to meet his mother, his eyes wide, a toothy grin spreading across his face. He had never felt something so strange before!_

 _His mother smiled that knowing smile again, and Damon found that he disliked it less and less as the minutes passed. "I think she likes you, my angel," Lily told him gleefully as a grin practically cracked Damon's face in half._

 _In the background, he could hear Stefan's jealous protestations and his mother's soothing voice attempting to calm him, but all Damon could pay attention to was the soft fluttering under his palm and the warmth that erupted in his chest because of it._

* * *

 _ **2009- Earlier that day**_

Caroline sat at her mother's desk, running her fingers distractedly over the small knick knacks that surrounded her. The disorderly state of her mom's office set an itch under her skin, but she set her near obsessive desire for tidiness aside.

She hoped to go out with Bonnie to the Grille today, and while in her opinion she didn't necessarily need her mom's permission to much of anything anymore, she still would like to avoid the gazillion _where are you_ 'sor _you're grounded_ 's or _I'm calling your father'_ s that would undoubtedly come later _._ Caroline huffed a laugh. As if her dad would care if she went out to eat with her best friend. Her mom, if it was not obvious by now, was the lame, overprotective parent. She called it an occupational hazard.

She had been waiting in her mom's office for well over ten minutes now. She came in earlier, striding past the deputies who undoubtedly knew their boss' daughter by now and plopped down on the desk. Now she wondered if she should have told them to get her mom for her.

Caroline rolled her eyes and reached up to run her fingers through her styled curls. A small, insistent buzzing came from the back pocket of her skinny jeans, and she maneuvered slightly to wiggle her phone out. A picture of her and Bonnie flashed on the small screen.

She smiled and pressed the green call button, holding her phone up to her ear.

" _Care, are you driving over yet? I've been sitting by myself for five minutes now and the pitiful glances are just starting to go my way."_

Caroline laughed and jumped off the desk, her sandled feet making a soft sound against the linoleum floors. She adjusted her jacket.

"Sorry, Bonnie," she apologized. "I'm leaving mom's office now. I'm guessing her deputies didn't tell her I was here."

Bonnie laughed, and the melodious sound brought a smile to Caroline's face. _"Of course. You're not worried about getting grounded?"_

Caroline shrugged nonchalantly before she realized that her friend couldn't see it. "She can't ground me. I'm going to be too busy helping Mrs. Lockwood with the upcoming Founder's Party and Comet Sighting Party and I think she's more afraid of pissing off Carol Lockwood than concerned with grounding me."

Bonnie made a shuddering noise into the phone as Caroline bumped her hip against the door. _"I don't think Satan himself would get in the way of Carol Lockwood and making an impression."_

Caroline giggled and rested her phone between her shoulder and her cheek as she distractedly walked down the hallway, digging her hand into her purse to fish out her keys.

Bonnie continued to chatter against her ear and Caroline made the occasional _mhm_ sound to appear as if she was listening. Finally Caroline grabbed her keys and once again took ahold of her phone.

"Bonnie, hold on a second I'm-"

Before she could finish her sentence, Caroline bumped a hard object and started to fall bottom first onto the hard floor. She could feel someone's large hands attempt to balance her by catching her fall, but they must've either been too late or too weak, because Caroline crashed onto the linoleum, her phone and purse escaping her grasp.

Irritation and embarrassment slammed into her, causing her face to burn a cherry red all the way up to her hair line.

The hands came down to help pick her up but she slapped them away blindly, her shame turning to anger.

"What the hell is your problem, you asshole! Do you just like pushing over teenage girls or do those usually happen as accidents?" She cried, pushing herself off the floor, keeping her eyes trained on her hands as they dusted off her pink blouse and jeans.

"I can assure you this was an accident but I don't know if you would believe me," A masculine, apologetic, and if Caroline allowed herself to think about it, very _hot_ voice said above her.

She snapped her head upwards to meet this mystery man's gaze and found herself promptly falling silent.

Remember how she thought that his voice was hot? Well, it turns out that the rest of him was hot too! Go figure.

Caroline's face fell slack as she took in the tall, green-eyed man in front of her, and _oh my god his hair looked so soft,_ before she straightened herself up, plastering her practice Miss Mystic Falls smile on her face.

"I'm so sorry," she apologized, her voice significantly sweeter than it was prior which seemed to pleasantly surprise the man in front of her. He looked to be a couple years older than she, about four or five years if she had to guess, which only heightened her instant infatuation with him.

The man smiled and nodded, glancing around the room awkwardly, as if clueless on how to speak genially with the girl who insulted and snapped at him just a few minutes before. Caroline felt a part of herself deflate at that, so she flipped a blonde curl over her shoulder and batted her eyes at him flirtatiously. His anxiety only seemed to increase as he noticed her efforts.

"I'm so sorry. Where are my manners? My name is Caroline Forbes," she said, reaching out to shake his hand.

At this, the man seemed to regain his bearings, because he reached out to take her hand, only instead of shaking it like she expected, he brought it up to his lips and pressed a small, polite kiss on the back of it, as if taken over by some gentlemanly impulse. Caroline's blush returned with a force as her heart fluttered wildly in her chest and she resisted the urge to bring her hand up to feel her rapid pulse.

"It's nice to meet you, Caroline. My name is Stefan Salvatore. I'm kind of new here, actually," he said, abruptly shoving his hands into his pockets. Caroline let her eyes drift to his biceps, noticing with appreciation on how they bulged against his leather jacket, before she returned to meet his gaze.

"That's great. I don't suppose you would like a Welcome to Mystic Falls fruit basket, would you?" She asked coyly, her smile widening as Stefan's answering laugh rang out.

He shook his head, grinning at her in a way that made her heart stop. "No, that's not necessary. Thanks for asking though." His brows furrowed for moment then, his eyes taking in the contours of her face. "Wait. Did you say your name was Forbes?"

Now it Caroline who looked confused. "Yeah…" she said slowly, crossing her arms. "Why are you asking? Do you know my-?"

"Stefan Salvatore?" A familiar voice suddenly rang out in the hallway, and both Stefan and Caroline turned to look at the origin of the caller.

Liz Forbes stood at the door of her office, apparently having gone in after Caroline left. Her brown eyes flickered between Caroline and Stefan, gauging their distance and demeanors, before she finally settled her gaze on Caroline. She looked fairly surprised to see her there.

"Hi, honey. What are you doing here?" She asked, stepping out of her office.

Caroline walked past Stefan to be closer to her mom. "I came over to tell you that I was going to the Grille with Bonnie so that you wouldn't have to wonder about it later when I wasn't home."

Liz nodded in understanding, but raised an eyebrow at her daughter. "And even still after coming here to tell me that, you were going to leave anyway?"

Caroline felt embarrassment swarm in her chest at her mother lecturing her in front of Stefan, but she pushed it aside and shrugged her shoulders, pretending that she didn't feel Stefan's gaze at her back. "You were taking too long," she said simply.

Liz rolled her eyes at her candor but disregarded it, waving a hand dismissively at her side. "Of course you can go eat with Bonnie. Just make sure to be home before ten. You have school tomorrow."

This time, Caroline didn't bother to hide her annoyance. "Fine! I will," she groaned, reaching down to pick up her forgotten purse and phone, one of which was strangely no longer on the ground.

She chanced a look at Stefan and saw him staring at her, holding her missing phone out. _That's funny,_ she thought. _I never saw him pick it up._ She shot him a small, albeit confused, smile and took her phone from his outstretched hand.

She waved over her shoulder at her mom, too annoyed to verbalize a farewell, but held Stefan's gaze. "Goodbye, Stefan," she called as she walked away from him.

Stefan waved at her retreating back, before calling out a low, "goodbye, Caroline" in return.

It wasn't until she got to her car that Caroline realized she was still smiling.

* * *

Stefan stared after Caroline as she strutted into the parking lot. He found that he liked her, strangely enough, despite the way she spoke to him earlier. She was funny, in an unintentional sort of way, and determined, which he respected. He could tell that she was a bit vain in the way that all beautiful teenage girls usually were, but he found that he wasn't annoyed by it too much. It was hard to get irritated at one's simple appreciation of their beauty after meeting someone like Katherine Pierce, who had vanity in spades. Once again, he was glad that she was dead.

He then switched his gaze back to Sherriff Forbes, who he was quickly realizing shared more physical similarities with her daughter than not. The shade of blonde was the same, as was their skin tone and smile. The only difference he could see was their height. He supposed that Caroline took after her father in that department.

"Hello, Sherriff. I hope this wasn't a bad time?" Stefan asked, approaching her slowly.

Sherriff Forbes waved her hands dismissively, turning around to walk into her office. She left her door open so Stefan took that as a silent cue to follow her inside. He closed the door behind them.

She stood at her desk, straightening out papers and rearranging random knick knacks that crowded her space. She looked up, smiling apologetically. "I'm sorry for the mess but I don't usually have visitors. I bet this drove my daughter crazy," she said with a small laugh.

Stefan smiled slightly, sitting down slowly into one of the chairs in front of her desk. "Its fine, I don't mind. And, if you don't mind my asking, your daughter's a neat freak?"

Liz shot him an amused look as she settled into her plush chair. "You don't even know the half of it," she said, chuckling.

Stefan's smile widened in turn, but it was sadder, wistful, almost. "No, no, I do. My brother was the same way."

Liz's face fell. "Was?"

Stefan's eyes widened as he realized his verbal blunder. "Oh, he's not dead," he assured her. "We just don't speak very often anymore."

Sherriff Forbes' features settled into a look of relief and understanding, before she straightened up, looking slightly more serious. "The coroner said that you had something to bring me?"

Stefan plastered a look of forgetful realization on his face, exclaiming an, "oh right!" as he grabbed the bag at his side and pulled out a weighty manila folder. He placed it in Sherriff Forbes' outstretched hand and settled back into his chair, carefully watching her face and lips as she silently read the document inside.

For a moment, shock and horror flitted across her features before she remembered that someone was still there, watching her.

The Sherriff closed the folder sharply and handed it back over to him, her face now smoothed over into passivity.

Stefan's curiosity ate at him unrelentingly but he refused to let it show on his face. Instead, he kept his features impassive and nonchalant, as if uncaring to whatever revelation she must've had. However, for courtesy's sake, he asked, "Are you alright?"

Sherriff Forbes shot him a brief smile and nod as she sat back in her chair. She looked at him quizzically for a moment. "What are you again?"

Stefan felt dread flare up in his chest, momentarily wondering if his fangs popped out when he wasn't looking, but just as quickly as the thought came to him, he dismissed it. If the Sherriff saw his vampire face than she would be terrified and not confused. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"What is your job at the hospital, I mean," she rectified, smiling at him apologetically.

"Oh," Stefan breathed out, silently relieved. "I'm an ambulance driver."

The Sherriff raised a brow at him. "And not a paramedic?"

Stefan shook his head, chuckling awkwardly. "No," he said. "Blood makes me uneasy."

Sherriff Forbes laughed softly and stood up, which Stefan knew was his silent cue to leave.

Stefan and the Sherriff walked towards the door and then paused at they reached the threshold.

"I hope my daughter didn't bother you earlier. I know that she could be quite a handful."

Stefan laughed again, genuinely this time. "You don't have to worry about that. Caroline was quite charming. She asked me if I wanted a Welcome to Mystic Falls fruit basket."

Liz shot him a grin, her brown eyes swimming with affection as she thought about her daughter. "Yes, well I hope you understand that she can't be _too_ charming. Not for you, anyway," she said lightly, although her voice was heavy with warning.

Stefan glanced around, shoving his hands into his pockets awkwardly. "I wouldn't worry about that either. Your daughter is obviously beautiful, but she's too young for me." _In more ways than you realize,_ he thought grimly.

Liz nodded, visibly placated and turned around. "I'll see you around, Stefan," she called.

Stefan turned around as well, striding away from the sheriff's office, yelling out a quick "I'll see you around" as he went.

By the time he reached the parking lot, his curiosity had basically eaten him whole, leaving him only with the burning desire to see the contents of the folder.

Once he reached his red Porsche, he practically shoved himself inside his car and frantically dug into his bag to pull out the file. When he had it in his hands, he first grabbed the document, letting his eyes rove over the words written inside.

 _The victim is a young female, early to mid-twenties. Brunette with brown eyes. Around 5'3 in height. Skin tone is hard to discern due to discoloration of the skin from exsanguination, but the victim is most likely of Caucasian or Hispanic origin._

 _The victim has a large bit mark on her neck over the carotid artery. Flesh has been torn away in the surrounding area by what appears to be teeth. Most likely the result of an animal attack._

Stefan sat in his car in shock, a heavy silence surrounding him. His eyes kept flitting back and forth between the words _brunette,_ _exsanguination_ and _carotid artery_ , as dread stilled his tongue. His saliva felt like sticky paste in his mouth, making it hard to talk, to scream, to curse.

After a few moments of sitting in the tense quiet, he finally snapped, flinging his hands against his steering wheel. He barely registered the small flicker of pain that erupted against his palms before he did it again, slamming the back of his head against his chair.

It was so like Damon to do this. To waltz back into his life when he finally, _finally_ , was able to regain that scrap of normalcy that he was left bereft of ever since 1864. Damon's promise to bring him eternal misery ran through his mind in an unrelenting current, torturing him over and over again with that reminder of forever. That was their reality, this was their forever, and Damon would never let it go.

"Oh shit," Stefan suddenly whispered as realization set over him. "Zach."

He grabbed the shift and put it into drive, speeding away from the police station and racing towards the boarding house. Images of Zach's bloodless body kept flitting through his mind, each one more awful and gratuitously gory than the one before.

Once again, Stefan was reminded why he hated being a vampire so much.

Within minutes he was back home, and in a flash, he was inside the boarding house, frantically zipping around the house, and in his haste, chaotically throwing everything around.

"Zach! Zach, where are you! Zach!" He cried as he ran into the parlor.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his great nephew run into the room, his eyes wide with worry and panic. "What is it? What's wrong, Uncle Stefan?"

Stefan flashed over to him and patted him down, checking for any external injuries. Relief swelled and crashed over him when he didn't find anything. He stepped back and met Zach's questioning stare.

"Is there something wrong?" He asked again.

Stefan swallowed and turned away from him, ruminating over whether or not he should mention Damon's supposed reappearance in Mystic Falls. The events and the subsequent compulsion of 1994 kept racing through his mind, filling him with fear and dread with every passing second. While it would perhaps be better to inform him of his suspicion, and safer too, Stefan decided against it. There no use in worrying in Zach if it wasn't necessary.

"Uncle Stefan?"

He turned back around, plastering a look of placid calm over his face, silently hoping that his eyes did not betray him. "Its fine, Zach. I thought that something was wrong."

Zach's face scrunched up with confusion, his eyes laced with suspicion as he glanced over at Stefan. "Why would you think something was wrong? What are you not telling me? You do realize that I am _physically_ older than you, right?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Stefan sighed and inched closer. He brought a hand out and rested it on Zach's broad shoulder. "I know that. Look, I was afraid that something happened to you. There was rumors of a supposed animal attack," Stefan said gravely, all the while neglecting to mention anything about his brother.

Zach's eyes widened with shock as the gravity of Stefan's words settled over him. He walked out of his uncle's grasp and sat down on the couch in front of the fire place, rubbing a hand over his face.

He looked back up at him once the news sank in. "You think it's another vampire?"

Stefan shrugged, feigning confusion. "I honestly hope not." That statement, at least, was true.

Zach's eyes suddenly narrowed with accusation, a black hatred seeping into his features. He stood up rapidly, pointing a finger in his direction.

"What about you? How am I supposed to know that you didn't kill someone?" He yelled furiously as Stefan approached him, his hands raised in a placating gesture.

"Zach, please listen to me. You know me. You know that I don't drink human blood. If I did then you would already be dead," Stefan reminded him.

Rightfully so, Zach looked unsettled by Stefan's last statement, but he nodded nonetheless, still clearly unhappy.

"Fine," he conceded. "You didn't do it but if you find out who did then you need to tell me. I'm not going to let myself get killed just because you don't know how to control the situation."

Stefan hesitated for a moment before nodding slowly, still not entirely sure if he ever wanted to tell Zach about Damon. He had never been the best at compulsion, and he wouldn't know what to do if his nephew caught a glimpse of Damon and remembered the massacre he unknowingly lived through.

Zach stared him down for seconds more, his gaze hard, before scoffing and heading up the stairs. Stefan winced slightly when he heard him slam the door.

Anger once again swam in his chest as he considered the ramifications of his brother's possible actions. Despite his hedonistic tendencies, Damon wasn't sloppy. Even as a human, he was always a bit of a neat freak, so it was either that Damon was sending him a message or some other newbie vampire with a thing for petite brunettes was leaving his scraps around town.

He groaned, running both of his hands through his hair in frustration. Just thinking about the situation gave him a goddamn migraine.

Stefan wistfully glanced over at his crystal tumbler of bourbon, a sudden need to drown his confusion in alcohol consuming him. Before he could talk himself out of it, he strode over to the bottle, opened it, and then guzzled the liquid down, sighing in contentment as it burned down his throat. He held it away from himself.

"God I really needed that," he said as he moved to drink it again.

* * *

Hours later and well and fully drunk, Stefan remained in the parlor, stumbling around and shuffling in a half-hearted dance as Bon Jovi blared from the speakers. He felt a deep and gnawing yearning for Lexi as he sang the lyrics of _You Give Love a Bad Name_.

A loud caw suddenly sounded to the left of him, causing him to turn to the sound. On his windowsill, a raven crow sat innocently, peering at him with a cocked head.

Flashes of the early 1900s ran belatedly through his mind, and Stefan was barely able to register the half-formed memories before the bird flew at his side, almost crashing into him.

He turned as quickly as he could to watch where the bird went, when his eyes finally caught the dark figure standing at the threshold of the door. His breath caught in his chest as fear and realization slammed into him, muddling his inebriated mind.

"Damon," he choked out, suddenly without any words to say.

Damon watched his reaction with twisted amusement, his lips curling into his trademark smirk. "Hello, brother," he said and strode past him and into the house, once again leaving Stefan helpless and bereft of any hopes of future happiness.

* * *

 **I'm sorry for the lack of Damon and the overabundance of Stefan for those of you who don't like him too much. Unfortunately for those who don't, I actually really like Stefan and he, like in the show, is gonna be a big part of the trio that carries the story. Also, I'm sorry for the lack of Elena, but with Elena it's gonna be a little more difficult. For the first half of the story, Elena is mostly gonna show up in flashbacks or memories of either Damon or Stefan. Speaking of Stefan, I changed his age a bit to fit the story line. Damon is still 25, Elena is still 17, but Stefan is now 21, which is why I had Caroline remark on how he looked older than her. And for those who are wondering, the delena is coming soon I promise! It's just going to be very messy and complicated for a while! Don't say I didn't warn you.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Small trigger warning- In the beginning of the chapter in the flashback sequence, there is a scene where Damon interacts with a slave woman that his family owns. It is not a violent scene at all, but this is just a small warning for those who prefer to skip over moments like that. There is also a scene where there is an instance of emotional abuse between a parent and a child. This is your warning if you want to avoid reading that.**

* * *

 _Flesh and blood and skin and bone,_

 _What is mine is mine and mine alone._

 _-Flesh and Blood, The Waifs._

* * *

 _ **1844**_

 _On the day of Damon's fifth name day, his father and mother took him to the parlor room, in front of the grand fireplace that he loved to sit by, and presented him with a wrapped present. He ripped it open with a zeal that was characteristic of a boy of five name days and nearly squealed with excitement when he saw what was underneath._

 _It was a wooden toy soldier, of a Revolutionary Era, with a gleaming blue uniform and a stoic, painted face that was set upon with a heavy brow. He looked very much like the heroes that his father told him about during his studies, and Damon couldn't help the excitement that consumed his tiny body._

 _He had sprinted over to his mother and threw his little arms around his waist, burying his face into the silky fabric of her skirt. His mother had laughed from above him and leaned down, a warm and maternal look etched into her lovely face as she reached out to caress his soft cheek._

" _Do you like him, my darling boy?" She asked, raising her brows high on her forehead as if in genuine inquiry, even as her eyes shone with amusement._

 _Damon, practically shaking with happiness and much too young to grasp the micro-expressions of adults, simply nodded his head vigorously. He threw himself into her embrace, squeezing her briefly and whispering a soft, "Thank you, Mama!" against her neck._

 _He pulled himself away when his mother jostled him and leaned back to look at her._

" _What will you name him, darling? All strong soldiers need strong names." She tapped his nose with her index finger. "Like you."_

 _Damon moved his new toy in front of his eye-line, watching it with intense scrutiny. His mama was right. This soldier was strong and he needed him to have an impressive name. A name that would be remembered throughout the ages for its regality and power. After a few moments, a name came to him._

 _He looked up at his mother, a wide grin breaking out across his face. "Cesare!" He exclaimed, his Italian pronunciation only slightly clumsy. His father had recently taken it upon himself to teach him their native tongue, and Damon liked the way the vowels rolled around in his mouth and came out so eloquently, so different was it to the straightforwardness of English._

" _Cesare," his mother repeated, a fond smile lighting up her face. "That is a very good choice, my perfect boy." She looked up at Giuseppe, her gaze expectant. "Is it not, my love?"_

 _Damon's father nodded curtly at her and folded his arms tightly across his chest, his eyes hard as they met Damon's. He could feel that familiar rustle of nervous butterflies itch their way up his throat._

 _He walked closer to him until they were but two feet away and stood resolutely, forcing Damon to tilt his head up at a ridiculous angle in order to meet his severe gaze. Later on his life, he would come to realize this was an intimidation tactic._

" _You will not lose this toy under any circumstances, do you understand me?" Giuseppe asked, his tone as stoic as the rest of him. Damon nodded sheepishly, wanting to inch closer to his mother's comforting warmth._

" _You will not break this toy, and…" Giuseppe paused dramatically, pointing an accusing finger towards his son's face. "If you attempt to share this toy with the servants' children like you did with your last then I will have you beaten and flogged within your life's inch." His voice lowered further, until it was almost a growl. "Do you understand me, boy?"_

 _Damon just gulped nervously and nodded, too terrified of saying the wrong thing. He wanted to run off and show Cesare to baby Stefan and Mariah, but he knew that if he left without his father's dismissal then he would be punished. Wisely, much too wisely for a newly five year old child, Damon stood in obedient silence, practically sweating under his father's gaze._

 _Finally, Giuseppe must have had his fill of terrorizing his own child before he waved his hand dismissively, shooing Damon out of the room._

 _He shot his mother a quick glance, not surprised to see her looking away from him and into the fire, before he sped away, running away from his father as quickly as his little legs could carry him._

 _He arrived in Stefan's nursery within minutes, taking a pause to catch his breath. When he could breathe comfortably again, he waltzed into the room and made a beeline towards Mariah, who was cooing and humming to his baby brother._

" _Mariah!" He shouted, dancing around her muslin skirts._

 _The older woman turned towards him, a finger pressed to her lips. Damon took the hint and settled down, watching her move around impatiently._

 _It was in times like these that Damon hated having a little brother most. At first, Stefan was fun because he was small and laughed a lot at the silly faces Damon would do for him, but eventually the lack of attention and the crying had planted a seed of disdain in his heart. Now he just wanted Stefan to be big like him so that they could play soldiers._

 _Eventually Damon's childlike patience wore out and he was back to jumping around, tugging on Mariah's roughhewn skirts._

 _She must've tired of this because after a few moments, she gently placed Stefan into his crib and took Damon's hand to lead him outside the nursery. Damon practically danced with delight now that her attention was back on him._

 _She led him into his chambers and sat upon the rocking chair that his mother frequently sat in and pulled him into her lap._

 _Damon nestled up against her and peered up at her with happy, bright blue eyes._

" _Guess what mother and father got me, Mariah?" He asked excitedly._

 _She glanced down at his wooden toy and brushed a finger across it, feeling the expensive, polished wood beneath the callused pad of her fingers._

" _A toy?"_

" _Yes!" He cried, excitedly waving it around._

 _Mariah smiled softly at him. "You mustn't lose it, Master Damon. Your father will be awful mad if you do."_

 _Damon grimaced and nodded against her, nestling himself against her bosom._

" _I won't, Mariah. I will never lose Cesare," he declared seriously, hugging his toy tightly to his chest._

 _Mariah simply nodded, the movement rustling the soft raven hair beneath her chin, and carried him to his goose-down bed. She moved his warm covers aside and tucked him in beneath, placing his toy next to his head on the pillow._

 _She turned down the kerosene lamp on his nightstand and walked out of the room, leaving Damon to fall into a deep sleep._

 _The morning after he woke, he could not find Cesare anywhere. He did not fall beneath his bed, or on the floor, and he was not lost within his covers. Within moments, Damon was crying balefully, sobbing hysterically against the soft sheets of his bed. Memories of his father spanking his bottom until it was a garish crimson replayed over and over in his head, reminding him of the warnings he had heard yesterday. In his five year old mind, Damon wished to simply vanish, to disappear into thin air before his father could find him and punish him for being disobedient._

 _A sudden knock at his door had Damon scampering out of his bed, furiously wiping at his cheeks to rid them of the evidence of his fit, but before he could call out that he was alright, his large chamber door was opened and his mother ran inside._

 _Once she saw the state of Damon's appearance, she walked quickly towards him, her arms stretched out to accommodate his tiny body._

 _As she approached, he fell into her embrace, his crying fit starting anew. "I am so sorry, Mama! I did not mean to lose Cesare but he disappeared!" He cried against her shoulder, nuzzling himself into her arms. He almost wished that he could absorbed into his mother's warmth. His mama was the sweetest, most beautiful woman on the planet, and he could not imagine loving any other person as much as he loved her. Not ever._

 _Lily pulled away from him, her eyebrows furrowed into a look of confusion. She ran a finger over his brow, soothing the lines of his crinkled face._

" _What do you mean, my sweet boy? How did Cesare disappear?" She asked softly, immediately shushing Damon as he quickly collapsed into another bout of tears._

 _He shook his head furiously, gesticulating wildly with his hands. "I do not know! I do not know! He was with me yesterday but now he is not!"_

 _Lily brought a finger up to her lips, pursing them slightly. "Did you look everywhere?" She asked._

 _Damon nodded and stormed away from his mother, pointing to his messy bed. "I looked under my bed_ and _on my bed."_

 _Lily walked closer to him, bending down and digging through his covers in an attempt to search for his misplaced toy herself. When she couldn't find anything, she shot him a questioning look, raising her brows high on her forehead._

" _Do you think Mariah put it away?"_

 _Damon shook his head immediately, crossing his arms. "No because she tucked Cesare in with me."_

 _Lily digested his words and then nodded slowly, crossing her arms as well. "Perhaps we should ask your father then?"_

 _At her suggestion, Damon threw himself down on the floor and started banging his fists furiously against the wooden floors, screaming protests at the top of his lungs._

 _Lily made a dismissive noise and forcibly yanked him upwards, pulling him into her arms, her face red with anger. "You will stop this immediately! Are you not a big boy now? Stop acting like an insipid child!"_

 _Damon quieted obediently but still squirmed in his mother's hold, clearly reluctant to see his father. Lily pulled him closer until his cheek rested against her own._

" _Come now," she said soothingly. "Your father will understand." But even as she said this, Lily sounded doubtful. No doubt too mindful of her husband's temperament._

 _Lily walked Damon out of the room and down the stairs into his father's study._

 _Giuseppe sat behind his large and ornate mahogany desk, reading a correspondence that sat in front of him. When he looked up to meet the gazes of his wife and child, Damon buried his face into Lily's neck, too afraid to meet his eyes. In the back of his mind, he kept imagining that if his father looked into his eyes, he would be able to tell what he had done._

" _What is it, Lily?" He asked tiredly, no small amount of irritation in his tone. As if already fed up with their presence, he rubbed a hand over their face._

 _Lily, clearly unintimidated by this, simply stepped closer. "My dear, Damon seems to have misplaced Cesare. He was wondering if you had seen it."_

 _Giuseppe simply raised a brow, deceptively calm. He placed the letter down and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his stomach. "And why did Damon not tell me this himself? I thought I was raising a man, not a sniveling little boy."_

 _Damon peeped one eye out, cringing at his father's criticism while his mother cried, "Giuseppe, please!" in the background._

 _He wrestled himself out of his mother's grip and stood solemnly in front of his father's desk. His eyes were wide and fearful, but he kept himself standing strong. If his father even detected a hint of weakness in him then he would no doubt ridicule him for it._

" _I am sorry, father," Damon professed wearily, bowing his head in shame._

 _The air around them was tensely quiet for several seconds, and Damon could feel goosebumps rise along his arms as his father prolonged the silence. Finally, Giuseppe stood up from his chair and took Damon's forearm in an unusually gentle, but firm, grip. He began to lead him to the fireplace located at the side of his office._

" _Son, as you grow and become a man, you will realize that growth only comes through suffering. Pain comes from discipline, and your mother and I have every intention of insuring that you will become a powerful, respectable gentleman. It is because of this, that I have taught you this lesson."_

 _Damon simply felt confused as his father delivered his speech, his five year old mind not fully comprehending the message that lingered behind it. Or, more simply put, what his father had done._

 _When his father stopped in front of the fireplace, he grabbed Damon's head and turned it towards the flame that roared in front of them._

 _He watched it mindlessly for a few moments before his eyes began running over the ashes that littered the floor of the fireplace. In that inspection, Damon caught sight of a lump of charred wood, almost indistinguishable from the other logs of wood except for one key difference: the black painted on brow that lined a section of the still partly visible face._

 _It took a few seconds of him looking at what that lump of wood was before the realization came crashing upon Damon, flooding him in a current of anger and despair. He was almost overtaken by the desire to hit his father, to give him a taste of the rage he felt, but Damon repressed it, all too aware of what would happen to him if he went through with it._

 _Instead, he simply threw himself onto the floor, wailing relentlessly, as his parents argued in the background._

" _How could you do this? He is a child, Giuseppe!_ Our _child!"_

" _That boy is too sensitive for his own good, Lily. He must learn discipline in order for him to even have a chance of being worthy to inherit this estate. I will not apologize for doing what is necessary."_

" _Is necessity cruelty now? Is traumatizing a child what we do to help them grow? I am sorry, Giuseppe, but I have no desire to take part in that."_

" _Then you do not have to! Coddle the boy! Leave him soft and weak!" Giuseppe scoffed. "I have no desire to listen to your sniveling, woman. Nor his. Deal with his tantrum the way you wish to."_

 _Damon could hear his father storm out of the room, but he paid no mind to it. He was engulfed in a fiery rage and it burned at his insides the way the fire in front of him licked at the sides of the stone that surrounded it. He had never felt so angry in his life._

 _He could feel his mother coo against his ear and smooth down his hair, but all Damon could focus on was the flame in front of him, flickering back and forth, again and again._

 _Eventually, Damon forgot about Cesare, the way all little boys forget about the shiny things that never hold their interests for too long, but he never forgot about what happened. After that event, he had taken to hiding his toys in little nooks and crannies around his room, places he knew his father would never look through. Every time his parents gifted him with a new toy, Damon would hide it in his little secret places and only take it out when in the absence of his father. After some time, his method of hide-and-seek became a game to him and he came to only enjoy playing if it was done duplicitously. Even his games of soldiers with Stefan developed an element of subterfuge, and after a while, Damon was only able to love his toys when they were secrets to all but him._

 _He only began to care when his possessions were only his and his and his alone._

* * *

 _ **2009**_

"Hello, brother," Damon greeted sardonically, shouldering past him to saunter into the house. It was like what he thought earlier: too kitschy, but he doubted Stefan paid any mind to that. His brother was fond of dictator-style oil paintings and tall, gothic architecture. Damon quietly scoffed. As if his brother could be any more of the brooding vampire Edward Cullen stereotype that he was.

"Damon, what are you doing here?" Stefan asked, and in Damon's opinion, _very_ unkindly. If he cared at all for what Stefan actually felt, he might've been hurt. However, just to amuse himself, and to piss off his brother, Damon turned around, a hand over his non-beating heart.

"I'm hurt, brother. I'm not even here for five minutes and you're already interrogating me." Damon tsked, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Bad form, brother, bad form indeed."

Stefan, whose face was now an alarming shade of red from repressed rage, finally exploded. "Don't be such a dick! You know what you did!" He yelled, storming towards Damon and stabbing a pointed finger to his face.

Damon stared down at the offending appendage for a moment, briefly considering if he should snap it, before dismissively waving it aside. He had no patience for his brother's theatrics today. Not after seeing the poor state of Elena's grave.

"You know, I would ask you what you meant if I had any interest in what you were so mad about, but since I don't then I'm not going to."

Stefan made a strangled, enraged sound in the back of his throat, clearly at his wits end, but Damon was simply uninterested. Instead, he peered around his brother's trembling form and spied a forgotten bottle of bourbon and, after shoving past Stefan, made a beeline towards it. In the background, he could hear Stefan race over to some leather bag and grab what sounded like a stack of papers. He would look to see what he was so preoccupied with, but again, he didn't care.

Finally, Stefan walked up behind him and grabbed Damon's shoulder, turning him around to face him, all the while Damon was rolling his eyes.

"Look at what you did! Tell me you didn't fucking do it!" Stefan yelled, waving the papers madly in front of his face. Damon took the time to take in his appearance, to look at the disheveled state of his hair and how his features were contorted in panic. A part of himself, that insignificant human part of himself that he would spend forever denying still existed, took pity on his baby brother and grabbed the papers from his hands.

It was a coroner's report and a series of pictures. The report itself was short, succinct, and in Damon's personal opinion, entirely boring, so he set it aside to look at the photos.

They showed the contorted and pale body of a young woman, her brown eyes open and glazed over with a white film that appeared on all bodies that had been dead for quite some time. Damon recognized her almost instantly. She had been one of his own.

Now Damon Salvatore was no Stefan Salvatore. He wasn't a ripper. He could control himself and had been able to for over a century now. When he had his fill of a human, he usually compelled them to forget and move on, to drink orange or some shit if they tasted especially good, but he wasn't stupid. Damon only killed when he had a purpose, and in that moment, when he killed that girl- _Angela, was it?-_ he had a purpose. It was to scare off Stefan, to warn him that he was coming, and to stay out of his way when he executed his plan.

Damon, when he took in his fill of the murder, simply looked back up at his brother, his face impassive. "So I see they found Angela, or Angelica, or whatever the hell her name was," he stated blandly.

Stefan's eyes widened, the depths of them swimming with anger and disappointment. He could only shake his head in dismay.

"Why, Damon? Why did you do it? What the hell did she ever do to you besides look like-"

Damon suddenly raced forward, his previously nonchalant face contorted into one of vicious rage. He brought his hand up and grabbed Stefan's neck before using his heightened speed and strength to slam him into a wall.

Underneath his grip, his brother visibly struggled for breath and calm.

"Don't you dare say her name," Damon hissed, his voice bordering on a savage growl. He pushed harder against Stefan's throat, enjoying the way he choked against his grip, the way his throat expanded for breath before being denied it, again and again, by Damon's controlling hand.

"I saw the poor state of her grave earlier, and to think, you always called yourself the _good_ one, the _better_ brother. I wonder how Elena would feel knowing that you have forgotten her the way you did," Damon remarked, his tone a terrifying mix of conversationally light and vengefully murderous. The obvious fear in Stefan's eyes only served to make him more motivated to increase it.

After several more seconds of hearing his brother struggle for breath and watching his face turn an amusing blue, Damon finally let him go and turned away, giving Stefan a moment to collect himself and to stop groaning in pain.

Within moments, Stefan's quick healing kicked in, and he staggered upwards, still clearly in some pain. All the while, Damon took the time to pour himself another glass of bourbon. When he heard that Stefan was now in a state to listen to him, he spun around and started talking.

"I don't need to waste my time to explain myself to you. Number one, because I don't care to do it and number two, because you won't listen to me anyway so I'll just say this-" Damon paused for dramatic effect- "I killed that girl not because of some Freudian impulse, but because I wanted to send out a warning."

Now Stefan just looked confused. "A warning?" He asked. "A warning about what?"

Damon just smirked at him, that casually sardonic look slipping back onto his face as naturally as any mask. "Well, for you to stay out of my way, or course," he said lightly.

Then, Damon turned on his heel and headed towards the stairs. Stefan moved to ask him what he meant, but Damon just snapped his head around, as if knowing that he was going to speak again.

"And for your sake, brother, my room better be untouched when I get there."

Stefan just stared up at him in silence, clueless on what to do, before Damon threw him a sarcastic smile and continued walking up the stairs, whistling all the way.

* * *

"Wait, wait, wait, let me get this straight. You met someone? An _older_ someone and you're seeing him again today?" Came the doubtful question of Bonnie Bennett, tentative maybe-witch and best friend extraordinaire. Well, to Caroline Forbes she was.

The girl in question simply nodded happily, an effervescent smile playing at her lips. "Yes!" She squealed. "Oh, Bonnie if you saw this guy then you would not be not-so-secretly judging me." Caroline paused, fanning at herself theatrically. "He's the hottest guy I've ever met, I swear!"

Bonnie huffed a concerned laugh beside her, but Caroline paid no mind to it. It's true that she met Stefan just yesterday but she knew instinctively, in her bones really, that she just had to see him again. Chance meetings like theirs was no coincidence. Caroline read too many articles on what constituted as a meet-cute on Cosmopolitan and paid too much attention to astrology to just ignore fate when it came knocking on her door. Again, she felt this in her bones. She _had_ to see him again.

Bonnie sighed softly and grabbed Caroline's hand, pulling her around to face her. "Look, Care, you're only seventeen years old. For all you know, this guy is an axe murderer." Caroline began to pull away and roll her eyes, but Bonnie grabbed ahold of her again. "I'm just saying to be careful. You don't know this guy."

Caroline shot a small smile at Bonnie and moved in for a hug, squeezing her quickly. "I know, Bon, and that's why you're the best. You're the rationality to my boy-craziness and that's why I love you, but Stefan is different. I don't know how but he is."

Bonnie still looked skeptical, but she offered a close-lipped smile, so Caroline took that as a truce. "Anyway," she started. "I was thinking of dropping by his house and giving him a Welcome to Mystic Falls fruit basket," Caroline said, grinning slyly. "You know, just to be neighborly."

Bonnie groaned, burying her face into Caroline's arm. "Please don't tell me that you looked up where he lived."

Caroline pulled a face, as if scandalized. "Of course not, Bonnie, who do you take me for! A stalker? Or an FBI agent? Although let's not lie I could totally be one," she said while laughing.

Bonnie looked up, her face visibly relieved. "How do you know where he lives then?"

Caroline shrugged. "I'm going with an educated guess. The only other Salvatore in town is Zach Salvatore so I'm assuming that he lives at the Salvatore Boarding House."

Bonnie made an approving sound as she closed her locker. "That's cool. I've always wanted to see what it looked like inside. Take pictures!" She suggested, only partly serious, but Caroline considered it.

"Well, if today goes well then maybe I won't need to. Stefan can just invite you himself when I become his girlfriend," she said slyly, that familiar ambitious glaze returning to her sky blue eyes.

Call Caroline an insecure neurotic bitch, but no one could ever say that she waited for the things, or boys, that she wanted to come to her. Caroline was the kind of girl that chased after the things she wanted. And she wanted Stefan Salvatore.

* * *

 **I'm sorry that not much happens in this chapter but for some reason it was a lot of fun to write despite that. I think it was being in Damon's mind. Season 1!Damon is a dick but he's such an endearing one isn't he? Also writing Caroline before her character development is a lot fun. I love her go-getter attitude and how ambitious she is. Again, I'm sorry for the lack of Elena but at least she was mentioned right? That's enough right? Yeah, I know it's not but I promise she'll be making an appearance in the story soon enough. Also, even though I haven't explicitly mentioned it, Elena's status in the Salvatore brother's life should be getting clearer and clearer what with the Freud comment that Stefan made. But do not be deterred, nothing in this story appears as it seems. P.S. every flashback I write in this story means something, whether it's to further the plot or explain something. This flashback has a lot more to do with Damon's psychology than just showing that his dad's a dick. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and leave reviews!**


	4. Chapter 4

_I will return. Find you, love you, marry you and live without shame._

 _\- Robbie Turner, Atonement_

* * *

 _ **1847**_

 _Damon sat on the floor with Stefan in their mother's parlor, passing a wooden horse toy and soldier that he deemed fit to share as the roar of the fireplace sounded behind them. Truthfully, he didn't care much for fireplaces, or fire at all really, but Mariah was dusting in the area nearby and Stefan was too much of a baby to play outside. And besides, the fire warmed his back pleasantly._

 _His eighth named day had passed without much fanfare a few months ago. His father had decreed that Damon was still too young for elaborate parties to be had among the socialites of Mystic Falls society, but he was gifted with a promising looking colt by his mother, so he supposed that he wasn't too upset. Also, Damon didn't quite enjoy the company of his father's acquaintances either. Something about the way they treated his mother and Mariah set an uncomfortable itch under his skin, and he didn't want to deal with the consequences of his father's easy-to-trigger wrath if he accidentally made his distaste known._

 _Damon was startled out of his reverie when he heard the approaching footsteps of his mother and father stepping into the parlor room. Their mother stood next to their father, her hand loosely wrapped around his arm. The distance between them was obvious, even as they stood a scant few inches apart. Damon didn't understand why his mother saw fit to continue this façade of an affectionate marriage. Perhaps she did it for his and Stefan's sake, but he saw no point. Even at eight years old, he could see that there was no love lost between them. Soon enough, Stefan would come to realize the same thing._

 _Their mother and father came to sit in chairs adjacent to the fireplace. Their father picked up some forgotten book he probably would never actually read, while their mother grabbed a basket of needles and fabric, setting her new project on her lap. She greeted them with an affectionate smile. Their father simply grunted in their direction._

 _Damon was unbothered by his father's indifference. There was no love lost between them either._

 _Stefan got up and toddled over to their mother, his legs still chubby at four years old. Sometimes Damon thought that he was the chubbiest baby he had ever seen, although his mother insisted that he was just as chubby when he was toddler too, but he found that hard to believe. Stefan was just strange._

 _Stefan reached out and patted his mother's rotund belly, searching for the whispers of movement that came so frequently now. "When is the baby coming, Mama?" he asked._

 _Their mother smiled at him fondly, her blue eyes sparkling as she ran a finger through his soft brown hair. "Very soon, my love. Are you excited to meet your new sibling?"_

 _Their father grunted again. "We had better pray that it will turn out to be a girl. Mr. Lockwood and I already discussed how fortuitous a match between our families would be."_

 _Damon shot a quick glare at his father, just as their mother did._

" _Giuseppe, the child is not yet born. Do you not think it too early to arrange a marriage?" Their mother said calmly, although Damon could detect the strain in her tone that belied her ease._

 _His father simply shrugged and then sent a hard look to Damon. He looked away quickly. He must've still been glaring at him without being aware of it._

 _That had always been a particular talent of Giuseppe Salvatore, detecting the defiance of his children, even if there wasn't any._

 _He turned his attention back to his wife. "Lily, this is only in the event that our child turns out to be a girl. Nothing is concrete yet. There is nothing to stress over."_

 _Their mother pursed her lips, still clearly unsatisfied, but not upset enough to start an argument. Not that she ever was. Now that was a particular talent of Lily Salvatore, knowing when to back down from her husband. Damon supposed she learned that after a few of their arguments, especially the one's where'd she slip out of her husband's office, meek as a mouse, holding a delicate hand to her reddened cheek._

 _She looked down to her belly and brought up a hand to rub at it, her features softening even as a tightness remained at her eyes._

 _Stefan patted her stomach a little harder. "Mama!" he cried. "I don't feel the baby," he complained._

 _She smiled, a small, strained thing, and ran hand over Stefan's soft head. "Sometimes the baby goes quiet, my love. It would be very tiring for it to be moving constantly, wouldn't it?" she asked tenderly. Stefan considered her words for a moment, his features twisted comically in an expression of deep reflection, before he shook his head. He leaned closer to their mother's stomach and loudly whispered, "goodnight, baby!" and then scampered off towards Damon._

 _Their mother then turned towards their father. "I have heard some troubling news, darling."_

 _Giuseppe looked up from his book and met her stare, raising a thick brow in question._

 _She continued on. "About Mr. Jonathon Gilbert." She hesitated, a sudden flush staining her cheeks. "I understand that he recently found has himself in an …unfortunate circumstance."_

 _His father snorted derisively, waving a free hand about. A cruel sneer took over his face, making him seem even uglier to Damon. "If getting a bastard on some low-born European whore is an 'unfortunate circumstance' then yes I suppose he is in one," their father said, his tone heavy with amusement._

 _Their mother gasped, her face burning a crimson red. She sent a look over to Damon and Stefan, her hands faintly outstretched, as if to cover their ears._

" _Giuseppe, please! Not in front of the boys!" She pleaded tightly._

 _Their father sent her a sneer, his face hard and ugly once again. Damon found it a wonder that someone as beautiful and kind as his mother could ever be stuck with a monster like their father._

" _No, Lily, it's best that these boys learn this lesson early." He turned towards them, his face severe. "Never sire a bastard, and if you do, at least have the good sense of never allowing anyone to discover it." And with that, he turned back to his book._

" _If it is any consolation to him, then he should thank the Lord that the bastard was born a girl. A male bastard and his mother would only cause strife for Mr. Gilbert's trueborn sons in the future." He sneered again. "Bastards are always born that way. Greedy and lustful and full of vices. Not even the church can cure them of that disease."_

 _Their mother sent him another reproachful look, her hand moving slowly over her large stomach. A sense of unease flooded Damon at the sight, a whisper of forewarning. Of what, he didn't know._

* * *

 _ **2009**_

Caroline stood in front of the Salvatore boarding house, a basket of a variety of fruits in her hand, her heart beating so furiously in her chest that it hurt. She supposed it was lucky then that Stefan Salvatore had experience in the medical field, a little factoid she was able to pull out of her unsuspecting mother.

The house was supremely impressive in its structure. All red and brown brick and colored in warm tones. It truly was the most expensive looking house in Mystic Falls. She had always been drawn to it as a child. For a moment, she considered whipping her phone out and sending a picture of it to Bonnie, but something inside of her told her that Stefan most likely wouldn't appreciate people taking pictures of his house. It truly was a shame. It was glorious to look at.

Caroline shifted the basket into the crook of her left elbow and held up her hand, knocking determinedly at the door. When no one answered after a few seconds, she knocked again.

A momentary panic took over her thoughts. She should've weaseled out his schedule from her mom or something. What if he was at work? But no. It would've been too suspicious and borderline creepy, and Caroline really didn't feel like having her mom breathe down her neck the next time Stefan was ever in the nearby vicinity in the future.

She raised her hand to knock again, deciding that if he didn't answer this time, she would simply write him a short note on the card and hightail it out of there, but before she could, the door swung open and Caroline abruptly lost her train of thought.

 _Holy shit_.

Was there something in the surrounding woods that produced the golden genetics of the Salvatore men, because Caroline could swear that she had never seen men as attractive as Stefan and this man her in entire life. Not counting Matt Donovan, of course. Caroline had always found him rather cute.

Perhaps it was presumptuous of her to assume that this man was related to Stefan. After all, they looked _very_ differently, right down to their coloring, but there was something in the line of their strong jaws, in their cheekbones, that spoke of their relation.

The silence that stretched between them must've entered the awkward territory, because the man smirked lazily and cleared his throat.

Caroline snapped out of her very obvious ogling and set a smile on her face, thrusting her hand forward. She cringed internally at the graceless move, but kept her face pleasant. The man simply stared at her outstretched hand for a few seconds, before moving to take it, and just like Stefan had done, he brought it up to his lips and kissed the back of it. Caroline almost fainted at how his lips lingered slightly, his intense eyes fixed upon hers.

He dropped her hand and moved his eyes slowly towards her basket. Now, Caroline supposed that she should introduce herself.

"Hello, my name is Caroline Forbes. I met Stefan the other day and I told him that I'd bring him a fruit basket to welcome him to Mystic Falls," she said pleasantly, easily slipping into her Miss Mystic Falls personality and grace. "And you are…?"

The man smiled at her politely, the effect of it no less dazzling. "Hello, Caroline. It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Damon Salvatore." He stared down at the fruit basket. "Here, let me take this from you." He reached out and grabbed the basket, hefting it easily in his arms, his biceps flexing wonderfully. Caroline considered it a miracle that she wasn't salivating like a dog at this point.

He sent her another look, his eyes glinting with amusement, as if he could read her thoughts. He turned away from her and walked into the house, shouting a "come inside!" over his shoulder.

Caroline grinned deviously at his back. Maybe if she got along well with Damon, she could spend more time over at the house and then run into Stefan more, and then in no time he would fall right in love with her and into her arms. It was almost too good to be true, but Caroline wasn't one to second guess an opportunity. Besides, Damon was extremely handsome and clearly charming. It wouldn't hurt to become his friend for the sake of her love life.

She followed him inside and stepped into an impressive hallway, baroque and old-fashioned oil paintings covering the warmly decorated interior of the house. Every wall seemed to be painted either red or an espresso brown. The floors were also a beautiful cherry wood and polished to perfection despite their obvious age. The Salvatore boarding house, in short, was an absolutely fantastic piece of architecture.

Caroline almost lost herself in her admiration of the interior design of the house, but an abrupt clearing of the throat had her looking forward.

Damon stood a couple of feet in front of her, gazing at her with an amused expression, his handsome features twisted into a smirk. "Aren't you coming?" he asked, stretching a hand in her direction.

Caroline flushed to the roots of her blonde hair and resisted the urge to scurry towards him. Instead, she tried her best to regain her composure, walking forward calmly, but quickly, so as not to keep him waiting. And to think that her mother thought all her debutante lessons in propriety and grace were useless.

When she approached him, he continued walking forward, matching her slower pace as she took in the rest of the house. She supposed this was when she should start talking.

"Your house is absolutely gorgeous!" she gushed, clasping her hands tightly together in front of her.

Damon chuckled, the sound just on the sound of derisive, catching Caroline's attention. "Yes, I suppose it is. It's a bit too much for me though."

Caroline pursed her lips, glancing over at him. "Is it really? When I was younger, I always dreamed of having a house that looked like this." She paused, before musing, "Or maybe something more Antebellum, you know? Like those old southern plantation homes."

Damon stopped beside her when they reached a large room, equipped with towering ceilings, a fireplace, and strange décor. Caroline even spotted a pair of swords on the wall.

He turned towards her and placed the basket down at a table in front of them. When he faced her, his blue eyes suddenly seemed tight at the corners, revealing little lines at the edges of them. Caroline guessed that he may have been a few years older than Stefan.

"You have an interest in the antebellum era?" he asked, crossing his arms.

She nodded at him, a slight smile playing at her lips. "I do. My family was one of the founding families after all," she said as she shrugged her shoulders. Something about the look of his face, previously so warm and now so unreadable, had on her feeling on edge. "Why do you ask? Are you some kind of history buff or something?"

Damon smiled, but the look of it was hard, calculating. Caroline inched away from him imperceptibly.

He cocked his head at her, amusement swimming in his eyes. He must've noticed her fidgeting.

"Or something," he answered nonchalantly, before looking towards the room in front of him. He stepped forward and gestured with his arm. "This is the living room, or, if you're a pretentious douche like my brother, this is the parlor room."

Caroline snapped her head forward, electing to forget that seemingly strange conversation. "So you and Stefan are brothers?" she asked.

Damon turned back, smirking again. _Jesus Christ,_ Caroline thought. _Does this guy ever genuinely smile?_

He motioned down towards himself, bringing attention towards his body, making her flush slightly. "Could you not guess?" he asked, smugly.

She shrugged, pushing down the urge to cross her arms. "I had an inkling," she admitted.

Damon's smirk widened and he crossed over to her, reaching out to tap her nose affectionately. Caroline's eyes widened at his presumption and she blinked rapidly. He chuckled lowly at her shock. "Your inkling was correct. Clever girl."

Caroline narrowed her eyes slightly. Although his words seemed to be phrased as a compliment, there was a hint of sarcasm underlying his tone. She shook off that train of thought, sure she was just imagining things.

"So how do you know my baby brother?" He asked suddenly.

She returned her attention back to him, his question causing her cheeks to flush prettily. "I ran into him at my mother's job," she answered vaguely.

Damon hummed. "Is your mother a doctor?"

She shook her head. "No, she's the police chief," she said with a hint of pride.

He nodded slowly, and then fixed his intense eyes upon her, a dark brow raised. "And after running into him, you decided to drive all the way here and personally deliver a fruit basket to him?" The corner of his mouth twitched. "How kind of you."

Caroline's eyes narrowed at his teasing. Who was this guy? Did he take an interest in questioning every stranger that turned up at his door?

"Yes," she retorted primly, sticking her chin up haughtily. "I'm gunning for the title of Miss Mystic Falls, after all. Some hospitality is well appreciated by most people."

Damon pursed his lips and nodded once again. "Wow. My brother and the beauty queen, how unexpected." He sent her a look then, slowly appraising her. "How old are you, Caroline?"

She visibly bristled at his inquiry, his knowing gaze angering her.

 _What does he know about me?_ Caroline fumed. _Does he think I'm just some mindless teenage girl trying to snatch up his brother?_ She resolutely ignored the part of herself that whispered that she did originally come here in order to enact a plan to pursue Stefan.

"Seventeen," she answered through clenched teeth.

Damon's features changed then, shifting from smug amusement to something almost sad, wistful. But before his face could settle on the melancholic expression, his eyes hardened, mask in place once again.

He opened his mouth to say something else to her, but before he could, the shadow of another person loomed in the distance between them.

Both Caroline and Damon looked towards the direction of the shadow, their faces changing once they caught sight of the origin. Damon's face shifted into one of smug amusement again, while Caroline blushed a pretty pink, wringing her hands in front of her.

"Hello, Stefan," they both said. Again, in vastly different tones.

Stefan glanced between them, his green eyes severe, his normally broody countenance now dark with a barely restrained anger. Caroline was worried for a second that his rage was directed at her, but after a few seconds she could tell that he fixed his hard stare on his brother.

"Hello, Caroline," he greeted, but his tone was unpleasant. And, in all honesty, his expression was frightening her a bit.

Damon must have noticed what his brother was too preoccupied to, because he lifted a hand to the small of her back and moved her towards the door. Stefan's eyes darkened even further when he noticed Damon touch her. He ignored it.

Caroline allowed herself to be guided towards the entrance, afraid to look back at Stefan. Even now, she could sense that her plans to fall into his good graces had shattered into pieces in front of her.

Damon paused once they reached the door and took her hand in his, pressing a quick kiss on the back of it. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Caroline," he said. She nodded and smiled slightly at him, still unnerved by him and by Stefan's towering shadow a few feet away from them.

Against her better judgment, she glanced backwards and met Stefan's eyes, relieved to see his face soften once he caught sight of her. "I brought you the fruit basket," she said nervously.

He quirked the side of his lips up in a slight smile, nodding at her. "Thank you," he said, before adding on, "Goodbye, Caroline. Hopefully, we'll see each other again."

Caroline blinked rapidly at his words, shocked by the warmth in his tone. Before she could lose her courage, she sent a dazzling smile in his direction and a smaller one in Damon's, and stepped out of the house, hearing the door shut behind her.

She walked towards her car and quickly got inside, shoving her key in the ignition and bringing the car to life. She backed out of the driveway and drove off, her head spinning with the events of the day. Something inside of her told her that this wouldn't be the last time she'd ever be shocked by Stefan Salvatore.

* * *

"So a seventeen year old?" Damon asked once the door shut behind Caroline. "How shocking, and I thought you were the moral one."

Stefan sneered and flashed in front of his brother, infuriated by the knowing glint in his eye. He grabbed his collar and shoved his face into his, his voice bordering on a growl. "What did you do to her, Damon? I swear to God if you threatened her-"

Damon cracked a smile and easily shoved Stefan away, moving into the house. "So protective," he cooed, striding into the living room. He turned towards Stefan, who followed him, and gestured at his unbeating heart. "How sweet of you. It warms me right up."

Stefan snarled at him, his vision nearly red. "Don't fuck with me, Damon. Just give me a straight answer. Did you threaten Caroline or not?"

His brother spared him a look, his face taking on that expression it always did whenever he thought Stefan was saying something ridiculous. "Obviously not, idiot, or else blondie would've been running out here screaming bloody murder," he said and then laughed as if he remembered something. "And a blonde, Stefan? How predictable are you? You've always had a little thing for them haven't you? Valerie, Lexie, and now Caroline. How about you mix things up and get with a redhead for once?"

Stefan snorted and then shoved past Damon, purposefully jostling his shoulder. He walked over to the crystal tumbler of bourbon and poured himself a drink, taking a swig of the brown liquor. "Don't be ridiculous," he muttered. "Lexie is my best friend and I barely know Caroline."

His older brother sauntered up beside him, also pouring himself a drink. "And yet, here you are, red with anger just because she hung out with me for less than five minutes."

Stefan ignored his jeer, deciding to simply stare forward until Damon got bored with his presence and went upstairs. Damon had always had a rather short attention span.

And yet, despite his hopes, he stayed right where he was, leaning against a mahogany table even as the silence began to grow lengthy. Stefan took another drink of his bourbon.

"She likes you, you know. It's why she came to visit," Damon said softly, his tone surprisingly casual and free of his usual sarcasm. It was as if he actually wanted to make conversation. Stefan sent him a suspicious look.

He snorted. "Caroline is just a teenager. She'll get over me by the end of the week," he stated.

Damon barked a surprised laugh and slapped a hand on the hard wood of the table. "Well don't sound so sad about it," he said with a sardonic humor.

Stefan slammed his glass down and met his brother's gaze, glowering at him. "Since when do you give a shit about my life?" he asked, moving towards him, his hands fisting at his sides. "Why don't you give up this stupid charade and tell me what you're really here for anyway. Is it to make my life miserable again?" he continued, shoving Damon harshly.

His brother had the audacity to sigh, as if _he_ was being the unreasonable one.

"I told you, little brother, that you just have to wait and see. I can promise you that it doesn't have anything to do with your _friend_ Caroline, so don't worry about it."

Stefan growled, grasping roughly at the front of Damon's black t-shirt. "Why all the secrecy then? What are you going to do to me?"

Damon raised his eyebrows at him, his face nonplussed. He grabbed Stefan's hands and flicked them off of himself. "I'm not going to do anything to _you_ if you don't get in my way. I already said that," Damon remarked easily, although his tone held a trace of irritation.

Stefan felt as if his face was stuck in a permanent expression of rage, such was the effect of his older brother. Despite Damon admitting that he was here for some scheme of his that didn't involve him, Stefan still felt as if he would be getting burned in the end anyway. He persisted with his interrogation.

"You've always been one for theatrics, Damon, but I'm not playing your game. If it doesn't involve me then just tell me."

Damon groaned, his irritation obvious now in the set of his dark brows. He ran a large hand through his inky hair, tussling it further. For a moment, Stefan wondered if his brother ever bothered to actually brush his hair or if he always preferred to look like he didn't give a shit.

"I _told_ you that you don't need to know. Why are you so eager to know anyway? You've never been one to care about the secrets I've hid from you before," Damon remarked lightly, turning to pour himself another drink.

Stefan considered his words. His brother had a point. When they were children, Damon had always been rather secretive and duplicitous. He had an inkling that it had something to do with his father, but he could never be sure. It was true that once in their lives he and Damon had been close, but even then, Stefan was not privy to Damon's every thought. No, that position had been relegated to another person. Stefan audibly sighed, wondering for what must've been the thousandth time if she would always stand as an immovable roadblock between them.

"You're right, Damon. I usually don't, but when your plans involve murdering innocent people then I have to be the one that draws the line," Stefan stated firmly, ignoring the way his brother groaned at him in annoyance.

Damon clapped his hands together, abandoning his drink on the table. "Here we go again, I was wondering when Saint Stefan would make his reappearance," he said dryly.

Stefan bristled at his brother's mocking. He hated the nickname. He always had, even when he was a teenager, watching on the sidelines as his brother and Elena laughed at him with their heads bent close together. At least Elena had the decency to appreciate his selfless nature on occasion, both of them being cut from the same cloth in that respect. But while Damon seemed to enjoy Elena's forgiving nature and softheartedness, he had always viewed Stefan's own bleeding heart with a certain amount of contempt.

"Don't make light of this, you dick! You _killed_ someone!" he shouted, shoving his shoulder roughly.

Damon rolled his eyes, his patience obviously frayed, eyes twitching with the effort to keep from punching him. He took a deep breath, visibly attempting to calm himself. He set his eyes upon Stefan's own again, startling him with the frigid ice of his stare.

"I'm done with this conversation. I already told you that I won't kill anyone if you stay out of my way." Damon sighed as he strode past him, as if he was remembering something particularly tragic. "Right now you're doing a very poor job of that, Stefan."

Damon headed towards the stairs and Stefan followed after him, determined to get to his room, but he was abruptly stopped when Damon paused on the last step, turning to meet Stefan's eyes. "I hope you remember what I just told you, little brother. It would be such a _shame_ if something were to happen to poor Caroline Forbes," he said lightly and then clucked his tongue when he saw Stefan's horrified expression. Without a second glance, Damon bounded up the steps and then walked towards his room.

Stefan snapped out of his frozen state at the sound of his brother's footsteps. He slammed a fist against the wall, screaming, "What is your problem, Damon! She's done nothing to you! Leave her out of this!"

Damon didn't turn back, but he did laugh. "You confuse me for someone who cares." And then the conversation was declared officially over by the slam of Damon's door, concealing his vindictive brother from his sight.

Stefan snarled and punched the wall again, ignoring the slight stinging sensation of his rapidly healing knuckles. He stormed into his room and slammed his own door, running his fingers through his brown hair, roughly yanking at the strands until it hurt.

It was true that he didn't truly know Caroline and it was true that he barely thought of her as anything more than a passing figure in his life, another temporary fixture until someone else came along to take her place. But even still, he couldn't bear the thought of someone getting hurt just because he couldn't control Damon. Unfortunately, Stefan had never been able to do that. Even when he was a child, the only person who could calm Damon down from his infrequent rages and consistent flights of fancy was Elena. She had always been the leash to Damon's impulsive and free spirited nature, and the balm to their father's acidic barbs. Stefan sighed, his heart a bleeding and yearning thing in his chest. This had not been the first time he's ever wished for Elena to be in his life again. Things were always so easy with her around.

Stefan softly groaned and ambled towards his desk, as if drunk, and sank heavily into the leather plush of his chair. He reached for his journal, but then paused, as if second guessing himself, and then motioned towards the drawer in his desk, pulling out a weathered photo. He ran a finger over the papery surface of the picture and studied the girl on it.

Even in the dusty, vaguely orange color of the photo, the olive hue of her skin was vibrant and warm, the color unlike any other member of his family. Her hair was pin straight and styled fashionably for the time, braided intricately in a little crown atop her head. He knew that she had always been fond of the glossy texture of her chocolate locks, and he found himself missing that too. She used to sit for hours in front of her vanity, brushing her hair until it shone and comparing the brown strands to his own, her face screwed up comically, looking for a resemblance between them. And then, Stefan zeroed into her face, his eyes stinging slightly. Although her face was frozen in the customary stoic expression of most people who had the privilege of having their photograph taken back then, Stefan could still see the ever present upwards quirk of her full lips and the humor that lingered in her doe eyes.

Stefan roughly wiped at his eyes and turned the photo over, reading the inscription on the back.

 _To Damon,_

 _A photograph to help you remember me by! Return home soon! Perhaps you can snatch a husband for me from the army, if you are so inclined._

 _Your dearest, Elena._

Stefan traced the familiar loops of her curly, strategic lettering. Elena had always been the best writer and student out of them all. She was so eager to please when she was younger, and then gratingly fun loving and rebellious when she grew older. She was a perfect match to Damon's impulsivity and free spirited personality, and truly the best influence on him, a fact in which every member of their household could agree.

Stefan ran his thumb softly over the image of her face, wishing she were there beside him.

"He needs you," Stefan whispered. He turned his eyes up towards the ceiling, fighting the tears that fought to emerge. "He needs you, and I do too. You were always the one to draw us together, even if sometimes I felt separate from the both of you, but I know you never intended for that to happen. You were too softhearted for that. Too conscious of other people's feelings." Stefan laughed then, slightly hysterical. "God I sound like a lunatic, talking to a dead girl like this."

He put the photo down on the desk, but kept it still within his eye line, not wanting to look away from the girl who was so different from the rest of his family, in both personality and appearance, but still so vital to their lives.

"We need you, Elena. We both do. We need our little sister."

* * *

 **So I'm sure that at this point many of you had already caught on to Elena's official role in the Salvatore brothers' life as of right now. Hence her being in the Salvatore family crypt, Stefan's Freud comment, and my taboo warning at the end of the prologue. Again, I have to stress that if you don't like this turn of events, then simply abandon this story because Elena will be known as their sister for quite a while. I'm sure many of you have also guessed on the nature of her and Damon's relationship, which, obviously, will be explored very deeply in this story and is not quite as amorous as I'm sure many of you believe. It's all subtextual right now. But, fortunately, I have also dropped many clues on the nature of Elena's true role and since I'm not being very subtle, I'm sure many of you are gonna figure this out immediately. In other words, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter and it ended up being pretty long, which I'm proud of. Damon is a fun character to write and his dialogue with Stefan is also a lot of fun and very Damon-y. Also, poor Stefan right? Dude can't catch a break and he's all sorts of paranoid right now. Caroline and her romantic pursuit of Stefan also has not ceased, but I'm sorry to all the steroline fans when I say that this puppy is a slow burn, in all the ways that you can imagine. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!**


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